Clyde stopped in the middle of the pavement.
People passed him, umbrellas brushing past his shoulder, shoes splashing lightly through shallow puddles. No one paid him any attention. He stood there, eyes unfocused.
If Darcy collapsed… If Darcy blamed Micah…
Micah would be destroyed.
Micah already carried so much guilt. He already blamed himself for changing Darcy's fate. If Darcy broke down in front of him, accusing him, resenting him, Micah would never forgive himself.
That weight would crush him. The thought made Clyde's chest ache as if something heavy were pressing down on his heart.
Sadness surged up first. Then anger. Then frustration. Then jealousy. All of it tangled together, suffocating him.
A fact danced in his head, mocking his excistance, his struggles, his love. Micah was destined to be with others, not him. A sentence written by the author, sealing Clyde's ending.
